


Anything

by valda



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Non-Consensual, Power Imbalance, Rimming, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: What if the Resistance's allies in the Outer Rim had come after all? With his ground forces destroyed, Armitage Hux can see no choice other than to beg the protection of Kylo Ren. Desperate, he offers himself in exchange.





	Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [kylux cantina](http://kyluxcantina.tumblr.com/)'s Apocalypse week, [this prompt](http://kyluxcantina.tumblr.com/post/171023966204/offering-something-in-return-for-shelter): offering something in return for shelter. If you'd like more information before deciding whether or not to read this, please see the end notes.

He’s on the ground, striding toward the blown-open hatch to the decrepit vault that will serve as the setting for the Resistance’s pathetic last stand, when he hears it: the sound of ships dropping out of hyperspace in near-orbit.

“No,” Armitage breathes, automatically raising his blaster in a futile gesture. The bombardment begins before he can count the ships in the sky, brilliant red bolts tearing through the ground troops and the walkers and the siege cannon and the command shuttle, marking out a wild line of red-orange explosions. Armitage is already running when the sound reaches him; moments later buffeting winds send him flying through the hole they’d blasted in the hatchway, stumbling to regain his balance as his men look around, startled.

“They’ve called for reinforcements,” Armitage shouts. “Our forces outside are gone. Find as much heavy equipment and as many blast shields as you can and regroup deeper within the base. We need a viable defensive bunker.”

As stormtroopers and officers scramble to obey his orders, Armitage casts about for signs of Ren. He soon finds the Supreme Leader in a communications room just off what seems to have been a hangar; he’s kneeling in the middle of the floor, shoulders hunched, and when Armitage strides in and circles him he sees that Ren is staring at his empty palm, as though there is something there.

“Supreme Leader,” Armitage says sharply, stepping up to a communications console and sliding a code cylinder into it. With a few taps, he sets the console to send encrypted orders to the fleet. “Resistance reinforcements have arrived and begun an orbital bombardment. Our ground forces are destroyed, save what we’ve got in this base. We need to retreat further in.”

It is a long moment before Ren raises his face. When he does, his eyes, normally so emotive, are completely blank.

“Come, Supreme Leader,” Armitage urges, and Ren lurches to his feet.

By the time they make their way back into the hangar, the rest of the Order’s forces have vacated. Good. Armitage sets off briskly toward the inner recesses of the base. “This way,” he says, raising his comlink. “Captain Opan, report.”

“We’ve found a secure area adequate to make a stand,” Opan says.

“Hold there,” Armitage says. “Don’t send coordinates, someone could be listening. We’ll join you shortly.” Shutting down the comm, he glances at Ren. “I don’t suppose your mystical powers can lead us to our men.”

Ren scowls, then shakes his head.

“No matter,” Armitage says. “It shouldn’t be difficult to find them. We’ve all received the same training.”

Distant explosions rock the base as Armitage leads Ren further into its dark, dank depths. He slides a beam light out of the pocket of his greatcoat and affixes it to his blaster.

Ren is uncharacteristically quiet and agreeable; the humiliation of losing a fight to a hologram must have affected him more than Armitage would have expected. Almost as soon as the thought occurs to him, Ren lets out a frustrated grunt.

Armitage stops and glances over his shoulder at Ren. “Something?” he asks.

Ren outright scowls at him. “No,” he says—and then there’s a thunderous roar, and something’s collapsing, something close, and Ren takes off running, and all Armitage can do is follow.

Sections of the base are falling apart. The main structure is sound, solidly constructed within the planet’s crust, but equipment and ceiling panels and other ephemera is shaking loose. At this rate they won’t find the others—they just need a secure place to avoid being crushed by debris.

“They’re dead,” Ren calls back over his shoulder.

“What?” Armitage pants.

“Dead.” And then they round a corner and there is sunlight, and Ren is leading him through a mess of fallen rock and out of the base. “The Resistance escaped this way, but they had a ship,” Ren says. He surveys a ravine leading to what appears to be some sort of river, likely searching for a path down.

“Where are you going?” Armitage demands.

“Can’t stay in the base. I’ll find other shelter. Wait for them to give up. Wait for our fleet to destroy them.”

“I can’t climb down that,” Armitage says.

“You don’t have to come, then.”

“You have to protect me, Supreme Leader.” Armitage’s voice has gone embarrassingly shrill. “You need me.”

Ren turns fully to look at him. “What could I possibly need you for?”

“ _Everything_ ,” Armitage says.

“I’m sure Peavey will be happy to take over for you,” Ren says, maddeningly calm.

“He can’t do what I can.”

“True, he can’t have a father who was conveniently part of the founding of the First Order.”

Armitage feels his face going hot. “I am the reason the First Order is functional and you  _know_  it,” he hisses. Ren turns away, waving a dismissive hand. “ _Wait_ ,” Armitage yells at his back. “There’s something else I can do. Something I’m pretty sure you don’t want from Peavey.”

Ren pauses, then looks back. That damnable smirk is back on his overlarge lips. “You’re offering me your body, General Hux?”

“Not just that,” Armitage says. His hands are in fists so tight he wonders if his fingernails might tear through his gloves. “I have…particular talents.”

Ren looks at him for a long moment, his eyes still just as dull as they’d been earlier. The sound of an approaching landspeeder seems to make up his mind. “Come,” he says, and then Armitage feels his body rising, floating, until finally he’s sprawled across Ren’s back. Ren hooks his hands under Armitage’s knees and, without preamble, leaps into the ravine.

~

Planetary night has fallen by the time Ren stops running. He’s found a cave far from the old Rebel base, populated by strange crystal creatures and all manner of insects. By keeping to the ravine and then the river, Ren avoided leaving red footprints in salt that could be followed. Now he lets go of Armitage’s knees, allowing him to slide off his back, and goes to sit against a rocky wall. He doesn’t even appear winded.

“Well done, Supreme Leader,” Armitage says, because they’ve been silent this whole time and it’s a little unnerving. When Ren looks up at him, cocking an eyebrow and giving him a grin, he immediately regrets it.

“How long have you wanted me, General?” he asks.

“I beg your pardon,” Armitage splutters.

“I already know the answer,” Ren says.

“What makes you think I want you at all?”

“You wanted me the moment we met. The first time you saw me, when I joined you in the audience chamber on Starkiller Base. You could feel my power even then, power you could never have. You wanted it.”

“Wanting  _power_ and wanting  _you_ are two completely different—”

“You thought of me when you touched yourself that night.”

Armitage’s traitorous cock twitches, and he fights the urge to cover it with his hands. It’s dark in here, his jodhpurs are black; Ren won’t see—

“You want me now,” Ren says lazily, stretching his long legs out along the stone ground. His thighs are ridiculously massive.

“If you protect me from the Resistance,” Armitage forces out, “if you get me back to my—to  _our_  fleet, I will help you. I will do everything in my power to see your will be done, for the good of the Order.”

“You would do that anyway,” Ren says. Armitage is tired of him being right.

“And,” Armitage says, taking a slow step forward, “I will, er, warm your bed.”

Ren laughs at this. “There’s no need for such cloaked language, is there? Tell me what you’ll do. Exactly.”

“I’ll pleasure you, Supreme Leader,” Armitage blurts, back stiffening as though he’s giving a speech to the entire Order.

“And how will you do that?” Ren asks, because of course he does.

“I’ll touch you,” Armitage says, staring at Ren, willing himself not to look away. “With my hands and my mouth. I’ll enter you, if you like, and you can enter me as well.”

“So,” Ren says, ticking items off on his fingers, “you’ll jerk me off, you’ll blow me, you’ll fuck me, and you’ll let me fuck you.” He’s still smiling. “Anything else?”

Armitage’s mouth goes dry. “What—what more do you want?”

“I might want a nice little tease,” Ren says, and Armitage’s mind rushes with what that might mean. “Maybe you can wear something pretty for me. Maybe you can dance while you take it off.”

Armitage had not bargained for Ren having particular desires. Somehow he’d assumed the man to be inexperienced, or uninterested in sex. This whole thing was a desperate, last-ditch effort to survive. But he can hardly say no, can he? “As you command, Supreme Leader.”

Ren frowns and makes a small gesture, and Armitage feels himself sliding forward, toes dragging on the stone, until he is standing over Ren’s lap. “Down,” Ren says, and Armitage complies, carefully kneeling to straddle him. Ren’s cock is hard against his own. “You’ll do anything I say,” Ren says. “Anything.”

Armitage swallows. Ren’s face is too close. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. He stares at Ren’s lips and nods mutely.

“Off with that,” Ren says after a moment, and his hands come up to fumble at Armitage’s tunic. Armitage pulls off his own gloves so he can undo the belt and fastenings quickly, and when he’s finished Ren tugs it all away. “And that,” Ren says, tugging at Armitage’s undershirt, so that goes as well. Armitage is left bare-chested, sitting astride Kylo Ren in jodhpurs and boots, identicards dangling from his neck to rest over his collarbone. Ren is still fully clothed, cape and all.

Armitage begins cautiously, “What would you have me—” but Ren speaks again.

“Hands on your head,” he says. “Stick out your chest.”

Fighting down sudden trembling, Armitage complies. He doesn’t know what Ren’s playing at. Ren hasn’t touched him at all. He’s just looking and looking.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” Ren says, and Armitage does that too, terror flooding his veins with ice. His breathing comes harder, and he works to keep it even. He waits, and Ren does nothing, and he’s starting to shiver when Ren finally says, “Stand up.”

Ren hasn’t said to open his eyes, nor to remove his hands from his head, so Armitage clumsily attempts to stand without doing either. He isn’t sure, but he thinks he feels invisible hands helping him as he manages to get to his feet.

“Keep your eyes closed and take off your pants,” Ren says. Now this command is truly ridiculous; he can’t remove his jodhpurs without first removing his boots, and he can’t remove his boots without sitting down for proper leverage.

He tries anyway.

After a long period of Armitage stumbling around blindly fighting against his clothes, Ren huffs out a sigh. Armitage can’t help it; he opens his eyes and glares. “You’re the one asking me to do unreasonable things,” he says. “It’s beyond my abilities to make  _this_  sexy, Supreme Leader.”

Ren looks oddly pleased at this. He says magnanimously, “Do what you need to. Just get naked.”

“And what will you have me do then?” Armitage demands. “Spin in a circle? Stand on my hands?”

“You said you’d do whatever I want,” Ren reminds him.

Armitage chews on his lower lip, staring monomolecular daggers at Ren, as he lowers himself to the ground and works off his boots. He sheds his jodhpurs and briefs and socks and then he is naked.

Ren rises to his feet finally, closing the distance between them in one long step. His gloved hands come up to Armitage’s shoulders, fingertips trailing over them, then down his collarbone, across his chest, down his ribs. Armitage shivers. Ren’s hands slide around to cup his arse, the motion pulling Armitage flush against Ren’s body. His damnable cock is reacting again.

“Is this how you imagined it?” Ren breathes into his ear.

 

“What do  _you_ think, Supreme Leader?”

“I think,” Ren says, dipping his head to brush his lips against Armitage’s neck, “you should be more polite to me.”

Armitage closes his eyes. “I imagined lots of things,” he admits.

Ren mouths at the juncture of Armitage’s neck and shoulder. “Such as?”

“The throne,” Armitage says, because Ren can pull it from his mind anyway. “Fucking you over it.”

Ren laughs, then licks long and slow up the side of Armitage’s neck. “What made you think I’d ever allow that?”

“In my imagination,” Armitage says, “it’s my throne.”

“Mm,” Ren says. He begins kneading Armitage’s arse. “You’ve always thought you deserved it. But when you had the chance, you didn’t take it.”

There’d been a moment. He’d waited too long. Deliberated until suddenly Ren was gasping back to consciousness, pushing himself up from the floor of the burning throne room and demanding—well, everything.

“What stopped you?” Ren murmurs into the hair below and behind Armitage’s ear, and Armitage shudders. He can’t answer, because it had simply been his inexperience in single combat. It hadn’t been loyalty, or any sort of sentiment— “Lie to yourself, if you want,” Ren says, and then he bites Armitage’s neck, hard enough to bruise. Armitage makes a noise that is surely not a shriek, surely. “But never lie to me.”

“I wanted to kill you,” Armitage hears himself saying. “Except I didn’t want you dead.”

“You wanted  _me_ ,” Ren says, lapping over the skin he bit, soothing it with a hot tongue. “You want to possess me. To control me. Killing me is a form of control. But if you kill me, you’ll never have me.”

_I hate you_ , Armitage thinks, and Ren chuckles and nips at the shell of his ear. “I know,” he says.

A gloved finger slides down between Armitage’s arse cheeks, pressing against his entrance. Armitage wonders if Ren is really going to do this, if he’s going to breach him dry, with gloves on. “Supreme Leader,” he begins, but Ren pushes harder, rubbing in circles, and Armitage chokes off a moan.

Then Ren is letting go of his arse, turning him, pushing him up against the solid stone wall of the cave. Armitage’s palms scrape roughly against it as Ren maneuvers him how he wants him, kicking his legs further apart and shifting his hips back and out. He  _is_ going to take him raw. Armitage closes his eyes.

His arsehole clenches reflexively as Ren pulls his cheeks apart, exposing him to the cool air of the cave. Ren chuckles but does nothing more, seemingly content for now to hold him open and, presumably, stare at him. Armitage doesn’t want to look, so he doesn’t.

Something nudges his rim finally and he jolts, rapping his head soundly against the low ceiling of the cave. He groans and shuts his eyes against the pain and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s not Ren’s gloved finger or bare cock. It’s Ren’s tongue, probing wetly around his entrance, lapping across it, teasing without going inside.

“Ren,” Armitage says without thinking. And then Ren’s tongue pushes inside him.

Armitage lets out a supremely undignified grunt and lets his head drop forward. Ren’s tongue wiggles inside him, probes deeper, slips out, then teases the rim again. Armitage’s hips cant backward of their own volition; Ren’s hands grip him tighter, thumbs still holding him open. He can’t quite believe what Ren’s doing. He feels as though something has gone wrong somewhere, that something isn’t right, but he also can’t fully form a coherent thought. Ren is stabbing a pointed tongue into him now, probing him, slathering him with spit, and he never wants it to stop.

Abruptly, Ren lets go of Armitage’s arse, and his mouth moves away too. Armitage trembles and fails to withhold a disappointed moan. Ren laughs, and then two of his fingers, ungloved now and wetted presumably with spit, push hard against his entrance. Armitage lets out a choked sob as they slowly breach him.

It burns—spit is not enough, certainly not for two enormous fingers at once—but it feels good, too, Ren violating him like this. Taking him. Using him. Ren, disgusting and shameless, spits on him again and again as he works his fingers deeper, and Armitage cries, tears blazing down his cheeks as he fights to hold himself up on shaking legs.

_Is_ this  _how you imagined it?_  asks Ren’s voice in his mind, and Armitage has no words, but he screws his eyes shut and nods.

“You’ve always thought you wanted to put me in my place,” Ren says aloud, drawing his fingers out, curling them at just the right moment to send a shock of white heat up Armitage’s spine. “But what you really wanted was for me to put you in yours.”

“Fuck me,” Armitage sobs.

“What was that?” Ren asks sharply.

“ _Please_ ,” Armitage says, head dropping low between his arms, hands rough from scraping over stone. “Please fuck me, Supreme Leader.”

“There now,” Ren says, his voice suddenly soothing, “isn’t that a good boy?” His bare hands smooth over Armitage’s arse, and then his cockhead is there, slipping up and down between the cheeks, wet with spit. Armitage wants to die, wants Ren’s cock, doesn’t know  _what_ he wants. “Me,” Ren reminds him, and then he’s pushing in.

Ren’s fingers had stretched him just enough, but there’s still such a burn, such a feeling of being hollowed out. Ren’s so big. He’s going to split Armitage in two. “Do it,” Armitage cries, “please, Supreme Leader, please.” Ren’s massive hands tighten on Armitage’s hips, holding him steady as he suddenly sheathes himself in one long, quick stroke.

Armitage’s body is reacting, noises are coming out of him, hot tingling is running through his arms and legs down to his fingers and toes, everything is shuddering, but it’s all secondary. The universe is Ren’s dick, blazing hot and carved deep inside him, claiming him. “Yours,” says Armitage’s voice from somewhere far away. “Yours.”

“Mine,” Ren huffs into the back of Armitage’s neck, breath hot against gathering sweat, and then he draws back, slides out, and Armitage is gapingly empty—

And Ren takes him then, rams his enormous cock so far inside Armitage it ought to be in his throat, jerks back out and pumps right in again, fills Armitage over and over and over and over. Armitage is mewling like a whore, hands scrabbling against rock, drooling, vision gone white, his own cock filled to bursting and bobbing angrily between his legs. “Slut,” Ren says, and Armitage sobs, and he needs to come, he needs it, but Ren hasn’t touched him, Ren hasn’t said he can touch himself, he’s at Ren’s mercy, now, always—

There’s something wrapping around the base of his cock now, except there’s nothing there—it feels like—that’s what it is, it’s the Force, the same as when Ren choked him, now it’s choking his cock, keeping him from coming, and Armitage bawls like a newborn.

“This,” Ren says through his teeth, “mine,” and then his hips stutter against Armitage’s arse, and his thrusts slow, and that gargantuan cock softens, and when Ren pulls out hot come follows, dripping down Armitage’s thighs.

Armitage is so hard he’s wailing. Ren spins him around by the hips and slams his back against the wall; he knocks his head a bit but it hardly matters, all his attention is taken by his throbbing cock. Ren leans in, bites gently along Armitage’s jaw, and this is it, this is how Armitage is going to die.

Then suddenly Ren drops to his knees, says “Let me taste you, Armitage,” and opens his mouth—and the pressure on Armitage’s dick is gone, and he comes harder than he can ever remember coming in his life, painting the Supreme Leader’s face with his spunk.

When it’s over Armitage can’t stop shaking and he can’t stop groaning, pushing himself up against the wall for dear life. Ren stands, pulls him forward, scoops an arm under his knees and picks him up like a baby. Then Ren settles to the floor, cross-legged, and holds Armitage in his lap.

Ren doesn’t say anything until Armitage’s trembling has mostly subsided. Then he murmurs, “I can do anything I want to you. Anything I want.”

Armitage opens his eyes, blinking against cheeks crusty with dried tears. He’s in Ren’s arms, naked, used up. He hurts everywhere. Ren is licking Armitage’s come off his lips, gazing at him as though he is a prize.

“Anything, Supreme Leader,” Armitage says.

**Author's Note:**

> (More specific content information: In this fic, Hux believes he has no choice but to offer sexual favors in order to survive. He is not in a position to consent, he is not enthusiastic, and he is prepared to endure acts he does not want. Ren is not gentle with him. Hux has complex feelings about what happens; he enjoys a lot of it, he is attracted to Ren, and he is confused and intrigued by Ren's reaction to him. However, he also feels helpless and lost and hurt. The description of sex acts is explicit.)


End file.
